


A Song To Sing You Home

by thefairfleming



Series: The Threesome in the North [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairfleming/pseuds/thefairfleming





	A Song To Sing You Home

"I still don't see why you have to go," Sansa says for what is at least the third time that morning.

Even as she speaks the words, petulance creeping into her voice, Sansa folds one of Val's nicer gowns and lays it gently atop Val's pack. Sitting on the giant bed, it seems like such a small bag to Sansa, especially when Val is going to be gone for an entire moon's turn.

"Sweetling, you know-," Val begins, only to glance over her shoulder at her pack. With a fond if exasperated, _"Sansa,"_ she crosses the room and lifts the dress out of her things, pressing it back into Sansa's hands. "I've told you, I won't need such finery where I'm going."

Sansa runs her hands over the silk of the dress, remembering the last time Val wore it, at a feast for some of Jon's bannermen.

She'd looked like spring itself, all gold and green and radiant. And later that night, in the quiet warmth of their chambers, Sansa had untied the laces of the gown, baring Val's skin to her mouth while Jon had pushed Val's skirts up, murmuring that they were both so lovely, so very beautiful, his girls.

The memory warms her cheeks even now, and Sansa clutches the gown to her as she had clutched Val that night, the words _don't leave me, please stay, I can't bear for you to go,_ pushing against her lips.  
Instead she says, "But the color is so pretty on you. And it's important the people on the road realize you're the Lady of Winterfell not...not a,-"

Val quirks one golden eyebrow. "A wildling?"

"That wasn't what I meant," Sansa hurriedly says even though, if she is honest with herself, that is more or less what she had meant. Sighing, she sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Val roots through the pack. "I simply want to make sure you're safe- respected- while you travel."

Val laughs at that, even as she removes another one of her prettier gowns from the bag, dropping it in Sansa's lap. "Trust me, love, a dagger will be much more useful for that than all these fancy dresses." She continues to pull things from her pack. The little bottle of perfume Sansa had nestled among her furs, the jeweled hairnet, the fine silk stockings embroidered with tiny blue flowers...all of these join the gowns in Sansa's lap.

Straightening, Val lifts a small parcel wrapped with a yellow ribbon from the pack. "What is this?" she asks, brow wrinkled in confusion.

A blush heats Sansa's cheeks, but she lifts her chin and meets Val's eyes. "Lemoncakes."

She expects Val to laugh at that, to remind her yet again that she has no need for frivolities and fripperies on this journey. But Val's entire face softens and she leans down, pressing a kiss to Sansa's forehead. "Sweet girl," she murmurs before setting the package of lemoncakes, very gently, back among her things.

She sits next to Sansa then, reaching out to interlace their fingers on Sansa's lap, leaning close so that their temples touch. "I know this is hard for you," Val says, sweeter than many would think Val capable of.

Sniffling a bit, Sansa rubs Val's fingers with her thumb. Hard is not quite the word for it. They have been so happy, the three of them, happier than Sansa had ever dreamed of being. But their happiness still feels like a delicate thing, a balance that requires all three of them. And now with Val leaving...

"Aren't we enough for you?" she hears herself ask. It wasn't a question she had meant to voice, but ever since the morning Val had told her that she and Gilly planned to take the babes to the Wall, to see where they had come from, the thought had circled her mind. What if once she was back North, back with her people, Val didn't want to return to Winterfell?

Making a soft clucking sound, Val nudges Sansa's head with her own, "Pet," she coos, and Sansa lifts their joined hands to her lips, kissing Val's knuckles. It's strange, this love she's found for a woman so different from herself. The sort of woman she had never even dreamed existed. Stranger still that Val seems to love her back just as fiercely.

Val lifts her free hand to Sansa's hair, stroking it as she says, "Tell me, Sansa. If the three of us lived in the North, you, me, and Jon, sharing a tent and furs every night, would you be happy?"

"Yes," Sansa says immediately. And she would be. Even the thought of snuggling down into soft pelts, Jon and Val pressed closely to either side of her, warding off the cold, makes Sansa shiver pleasantly. She imagines them in the soft glow of a fire, Jon's mouth on hers while Val's hand moves between her legs, making her twist and burn and feel so safe, so loved.  
Yes, she would like living in the North quite a bit so long as she had both her wife and her husband beside her.

With a chuckle, Val kisses her temple. "Of course you would. Even though it would be a strange life and certainly not the life you'd expected for yourself, Jon and I would make that life a good one for you."

Sansa presses closer to Val, closing her eyes. "Yes," she says again.

Val pulls back slightly, lifting Sansa's chin so that Sansa opens her eyes, meeting Val's frank gaze. "And even though your home will always be where we are, you would never long to see Winterfell again?"

Lips opening, Sansa wants to say _yes_ yet again. But the word won't come. She thinks of herself, all those years ago, building Winterfell out of snow at the Eyrie. How her very bones had ached for this place, the keen longing she had felt every day to see its familiar walls again.

Val leans forward and drops a surprisingly chaste and tender kiss on Sansa's mouth. "There, sweetling," she says softly. "Now you understand. I can care for you and Jon with all of my heart and still want to see the place where I was born. And Abel and Aemon deserve to see their birthplace as well. But I promise you, I will be back as soon as I can." The corners of her lips turn up, her grin wicked, and yes, here is the Val Sansa is used to. "I can only frig myself for so long before I start longing for the pleasures of my marriage bed."

That surprises a laugh out of Sansa, one that Val quickly swallows up with her mouth. There is nothing chaste in this kiss, and Sansa gives a soft sigh as Val's tongue slides along her own. For all the lovely things the three of them do in bed, Sansa sometimes thinks kissing is still her favorite. It doesn't hurt that both Val and Jon are both so good at it. Their kisses are very different things- Val's face so smooth, her lips and tongue so greedy, Jon's beard scratching pleasantly against Sansa's skin, his mouth slow and thorough and devastating- but both leave Sansa trembling, and she needs them both so much.

When they part, Val's eyes are slightly glassy, her lips swollen and wet. Pressing her forehead to Sansa's, she flashes that grin again and breathes, "Promise me you and Jon will get up to all manner of filthy things while I'm gone. It will give me something to dream about at night."

Sansa tries to smile back, but something must flicker in her face because Val pulls back, surprised. "Are you not...Sansa, do you not wish to be alone with Jon?"

"Don't be silly," Sansa replies, reaching for Val's mouth again, but Val stays out of reach.

"Is that why you're so worried to see me go?" There's nothing accusatory in Val's tone. Rather she sounds almost incredulous. "Because you're nervous about sharing Jon's bed, just the two of you?" Val tucks an errant curl behind one ear, still studying Sansa's face. "I must say, love, you've never seemed particularly shy with Jon when it comes to fucking."

Sansa's face colors at that, and she remembers the night before, her hand fisted in Jon's hair, Jon's mouth on her cunt, vulgarities spilling from her lips, and Val twined around them both. No, she had not felt shy in the least only a few hours before. So how she can even begin to find the words to explain her feelings to Val? It isn't shyness, and it's certainly not that she's afraid of Jon, gods forbid. No man has ever made her feel as safe as Jon does. It's only...

"This...this thing we are to one another," Sansa says, fiddling with the laces of her gown. "Jon and I have never been that without you there. What if...," she breaks off, inwardly cringing at herself. It's not like her to be this inarticulate, but everything seems so complicated, so impossible to explain.

It's as though there is a knot between her and Jon, a twisted loop of shared history, memories, and feelings they've never discussed. Val cuts through that knot like sharp blade. Without her, Sansa fears all those unspoken things will tangle up again.

"You make things easier," she finally says. "You make me...braver."

She expects Val to tease her for that, but instead, her wife simply cups her cheek in one hand and says, "You have never needed me to make you brave, Sansa. You are far and away the bravest woman I have ever met."

Val has never told Sansa she loves her. It's not her nature, Sansa thinks, to use words in that way. But no declaration could be sweeter to her than this one, and she kisses Val once more before slowly rising from the bed.

Standing before Val, Sansa tugs at the laces of her gown, delighting in the way Val's eyes grow warmer, darker.

"What are you about, Lady Sansa?" she purrs, leaning back on her elbows.

Sansa merely smiles and lets the dress pool around her feet. That done, she takes the hem of her shift in her hands and pulls the garment over her head before shimmying out of her smallclothes. Val's gaze is hot enough to sear now, and she reaches for Sansa, who steps back and, as demurely as one can when one is only wearing a pair of stockings, folds her shift into a neat, perfect square. Dropping it on top of Val's pack, she looks back at her wife and says, "If you won't take the gowns, at least take that. So you'll have something that smells of me."

With a heartfelt groan, Val sit up and snakes an arm around Sansa's waist, pulling her onto the bed. Sansa giggles as she straddles Val's hips, lacing their fingers. "Am I to take it that you'll miss me, Lady Val?"

"I'll miss your cunt," Val replies, spreading her legs so that one of Sansa's thighs presses against her. "And your beautiful mouth, and your lovely red hair."

Val tangles a hand in that hair, pulling Sansa's face down for another kiss. This one somehow manages to be even filthier than the last, and Sansa moans, rolling her hips, trying to get the right amount of friction. Still, when she wrenches her mouth from Val's, she can't help but tease, "And those are the only things you'll miss?"

Val pushes herself up to take one of Sansa's nipples in her mouth, giving a pleased hum when Sansa's eyes flutter shut. Val's tongue flicks at the tight little bud until Sansa is practically mewling. She is slick and hot, can feel her own wetness against Val's breeches, and suddenly teasing is the last thing on her mind.

"I'll miss these as well," Val says, nuzzling Sansa's breast. "And that little sound you make when Jon eats your cunt."

_"Gods,"_ Sansa breathes, and Val gives a throaty laugh.

"Yes, it sounds a bit like that." Val slides her thigh between Sansa's legs, rubbing it back and forth while Sansa pants and moves her hips faster.

"He loves it, you know." Val sounds almost conversational, as though she's speaking of Jon's fondness for wine or the color blue. "I've never known a man to love putting his mouth on a woman's cunt as much as Jon Snow."  
Sansa is shaking now, her entire body tighter than a bowstring, aching for release, aching for Val. She reaches down, wanting to draw Val's hand between her legs, but Val rolls, pinning Sansa beneath her.

"And he loves you, sweet girl," Val tells her. Sansa's heart stutters in her chest. She knows Jon loves her; he's told her several times, and shows her every day in countless ways. Still, hearing Val say it makes everything within Sansa warm.

"Use this time together," Val continues, even as she ducks her head to lick a hot stripe up the side of Sansa's neck. "You need it, both of you."

"I need _you_." Sansa cups Val's cheek, drawing her back down for a kiss.

She thinks there is more Val wants to say, but soon enough, Val gives a soft sigh into Sansa's mouth, and there are no more words.

It's strangely thrilling, being bare while Val is still clothed in the simple shirt and breeches she'd chosen for travel. It makes Sansa feel even more wanton and wicked than usual. Val brings out this side of her, and she wonders yet again if she can even be this Sansa without her.

She is so intent on kissing Val that she doesn't even hear the door open, only notices that Jon is standing at the edge of their bed when Val suddenly lifts her mouth from Sansa's. "Did no one ever teach you about knocking, my lord?" she asks, tossing her blond hair back over her shoulders.

Jon simply smiles, the scars around his eye deepening. "I do not have to knock in my own home," he reminds her, and Val gives a sound of mock outrage, looking down at Sansa.

"Our husband forgets himself. Promise me you won't let him get too full of himself while I'm gone." Despite her words, Val sits up, still straddling Sansa's hips, and loops an arm around Jon's neck, pulling him in for a thorough kiss.

"I'm sure Sansa will keep me in line," Jon replies when they part, his voice rough and a little breathless. And when his eyes meet Sansa's, her heart thumps painfully against her ribs.

"I have no doubt." Val presses another quick kiss to his lips before tugging at his jerkin. "Now get this bloody thing off and join us. I want a proper good-bye."

And so they give her one. Never mind that it is the middle of the morning, and Jon undoubtedly has places to be, matters to attend. Here in this room, in this bed, they could be the only three people in all of the North, and Sansa finds that she never gets tired of that feeling. So long as they are in this room, wrapped up in each other, she is safe and somehow untouchable. Everything feels simpler here, feels right. Val's hands on her thighs, Jon's soft kisses on her neck...every touch seems to flow into the next, leaving Sansa drugged with pleasure and a pure happiness that makes her whole body feel as though it's glowing.  
Eventually, they settle into the position they most often find themselves in, Sansa on her back with Val between her legs, driving her mad with lips and tongue, while Jon kneels behind Val, his fingers tight on her hips as he fucks her.  
Sansa winds her hands in the bedclothes, lifting herself shamelessly against Val's clever mouth, wordless cries falling from her lips. Val hums against her, and Sansa can hear Jon's answering groan, and some fanciful part of her thinks that yes, this is how it should always be, the three of them knotted together in desire, and love, and this wonderful, mindless bliss, Val the link holding Sansa and Jon together. And then she is breaking apart, back arching and she lets go of the sheets to clutch Val's head, holding her close even as she feels Val begin to shake with her own release, Jon following with a hoarse shout.

It takes some doing- as it always does, usually with much breathless laugher and straying hands- but the three of them eventually untangle themselves and lay amidst the wrecked sheets. Sansa loves nothing more than to be pressed tight between the two of them, but today, she lets Val take that spot.

Curling herself around Val's front while Jon nestles close at Val's back, Sansa sighs happily. "Don't go," she murmurs again, smiling when Jon breathes, "Seconded," into Val's neck.

Rolling onto her back, Val hugs them both to her breast, fingers twined through their hair. "And the pair of you are meant to be wolves," she mutters with a shake of her head, but there's affection rather than derision in her tone, and when Sansa looks up, she sees Jon watching her with a tiny smile.

When she quirks one eyebrow, he nods, and Sansa leans forward, very gently applying her teeth to Val's collarbone as Jon does the same to her earlobe.

Val makes a startled sound, and then laughs, pulling them both even closer, and as Jon and Sansa's hands meet on Val's stomach,

Sansa thinks perhaps they are not done saying good-bye after all.

But Sansa has just put her mouth to Val's when there's a knock at the door. "Val?" Gilly calls. "We need to be on our way."  
Sansa makes an unhappy sound, nipping at Val's lower lip. "Can't you wait a bit longer?"

Val gives her one last lingering kiss. "Not if we want to make camp by nightfall."

With that, she pushes herself up, standing on the bed and walking down to the end, which is where her shirt and breeches ended up. Sansa lies there next to Jon, the warm space where Val was a small valley between them. As they both watch, Val slides on her clothes, still standing on the bed, and Sansa can't help but grin, knowing that Val is making a show of it on purpose.

She looks over at Jon, expecting him to smile, too, but instead, he is watching Val with a serious, intent expression, as though he's memorizing her. Sansa has been so caught up in her own distress over Val's leaving that she never stopped to think of how Jon must feel.

She is not the only one to have known loss.

Sansa moves a little closer, thinking to take Jon's hand, but he is already turning away, reaching for his clothes beside the bed.

"We'll see you to the yard," he tells Val, and Sansa, swallowing a strange sort of disappointment, sits up to get her gown.

But Val walks across the mattress and gracefully sinks to her knees before them, a hand on Sansa's shoulder, another on Jon's chest. "Don't you dare. I want to remember the two of you exactly like this. Naked and in our bed and freshly fucked."

" _Val_ ," Sansa chides, even as her throat tightens and her eyes sting.

Jon lifts Val's hand from his chest, pressing a kiss into her palm so fervently that Sansa swears she can feel it on her own hand. "Safe travels, my love," he says, his voice rough, and Val runs a hand over his hair before kissing him softly.

She turns to Sansa, kissing her as well, and Sansa could swear she sees the sheen of tears in Val's eyes. But then she is off the bed, picking up her pack and swinging it over her shoulder. "A moon's turn, maybe a bit longer." She gives them that wicked grin they both love. "Keep my spot in the bed warm."

And with that, she is opening the door and gone.

The moment Val's footsteps can no longer be heard in the hallway, a sob rises up in Sansa's throat, one she told herself she wouldn't allow. But she can't seem to stop the flow of tears. Sitting up, Sansa's brings her legs up under the sheets, wrapping both arms around her knees.

"I'm sorry," she says to Jon because really, it's foolish, this carrying on. Val is not leaving them forever, and she feels like such a child, never mind all the very grown-up things she'd just done in this very bed.

But Jon merely sits up as well, his arm coming to rest around her waist, his lips at her temple. "Shhh, love," he murmurs, his hand making soothing circles on her hip. "Nothing to be sorry for."

Sansa shakes her head, swiping at her wet cheeks. "I'm being so silly."  
 

"It isn't silly to miss those we love, Sansa," Jon replies, and Sansa thinks he is not only speaking of Val.

She isn't sure if it's his closeness or his words or the soft stroke of his fingers against her skin but her sobs begin to subside. After a long moment, she gives a shuddery breath and lifting the corner of the sheet, dries her face.  
Only then does she remember that she and Jon are naked, hip pressed to hip. It is ridiculous to blush at such a thing. He has made love to her and watched her make love to Val. She has taken him inside her body, and he has had his mouth on the most intimate part of her, countless times.

But they have never been alone, never been just the two of them. Even on the nights Val goes for her rambles about the grounds, Sansa and Jon have always waited for her to return before retiring to their bed, no matter how many times Val has encouraged them to start without her.

And somehow this, sitting here with him, his arm around her hips, tear tracks still streaking her face, feels more intimate than any of the things they've done in bed.

It's a strange thought, and one that leaves Sansa feeling oddly unsettled. If Jon were to kiss her now, bear her back to the bed, would it feel as right as it does when Val is here? And if it does, is that not somehow...disloyal?

Perhaps Jon is wondering the same thing, for he suddenly moves away from her, leaning down to retrieve his clothes.

Sansa watches the play of muscle in his back and notices a small constellation of red marks just over his shoulder. She remembers now, earlier, when Jon had kissed her, his lips moving over hers as though he'd meant to devour her. She had clutched at him and in doing so, must have left those marks.

Only moments ago, she'd been marking him like that, and now she was turning her back to him, fetching her gown, feeling stiff, awkward.

Val has not even been gone a quarter of an hour, and already, it's as if everything Sansa had feared is coming true. They finish dressing in silence, and while Jon helps her with the laces of her gown, his fingers do not linger as they have when he's undressed her in the past.

Once they are both presentable, Sansa turns to him, smoothing her skirt. "I trust you have much to attend to today."  
Jon nods, but Sansa has the feeling his mind is somewhere far away. Perhaps following Val, as Sansa's heart seems to have done.

Still, he steps forward and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Until this evening, then?"

Blinking, Sansa tries not to let her surprise show on her face. She usually sees Jon at the noontime meal. But perhaps he'd like to be alone for the rest of the afternoon. So she simply smiles and replies, "As you wish, my lord."


End file.
